Maggie is the complete opposite of Michael’s usual type.
So why can’t he get her out of his mind?
Brilliant Manhattan attorney Michael Rannigan has his life arranged exactly the way he likes it. As a founding partner at the law firm of Murphy, Rannigan, & Metheny, he can let his underlings do the legwork on the high profile defense cases his exclusive 50th-floor division handles. He prefers to simply breeze in and do what he does best: dazzle juries and charm the press.
His private life is well-ordered, too. Michael doesn’t have the time or the patience for relationships. Instead, he has a contact list of hot blondes who meet his needs at any given moment, whether it’s a date to a gallery opening or an awards show. Or he just wants to get laid.
Some people would call him shallow. But they’re just envious.
Maggie Flynn has her life mapped out as well. After she graduates from law school, she plans to take a job with the Prosecutor’s Office where she interned. But when she attends a job fair and meets Michael Rannigan, her plans change. She’s studied his cases, even heard him speak once. He’s smart and sexy, and she can’t resist interviewing with him.
Michael hires Maggie and has her assigned to his elite 50th-floor team. He knows smart when he sees it. He also sees the spark in her eyes. She wants him. And having her nearby strokes his ego. It’s not like anything will come of it, she’s so far from his type. But there’s something unsettling about Mary Margaret Flynn, like she can see through his bullshit in a way no one else ever bothered to do.
Maggie realizes that her crush on Michael is all but hopeless. He’s a self-absorbed womanizer. But beneath that cool exterior, she’s seen the man he can be, and she’s sure that love can bring that out. In the meantime, she’s content to work with him.
What would happen if they ever crossed that line?
RESISTING RISK is the first book of the Rannigan’s Redemption trilogy. It regularly bobs around the top of several Amazon charts, and it’s available FREE, exclusively at Amazon. In this scene, Michael and Maggie come perilously close to the line.
“Mags,” she heard out of the shifting fog. “We’re back in town. I need you to tell us where to go.”RESISTING RISK by Pandora Spocks
She opened her eyes and realized that she’d fallen asleep with her head on Michael’s shoulder. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” She sat up abruptly. “I didn’t realize… I wish you’d awakened me.”
“No worries. But we need to know exactly where to take Ben and where your place is.”
Maggie could see the driver watching her in the rearview mirror. “My place. Right.” She gave the address, and the driver thanked her, the partition whooshing back into place. “Ben can sleep it off on my couch. It won’t be the first time.”
The car came to a stop in front of Maggie’s apartment. “Nice building, Mags. Is the whole thing yours?”
She fairly snorted. “In my dreams! One day when I’m rich and famous, I’ll have my own brownstone. For now, I’m happy with a tiny part of the second floor.” She smiled gratefully. “Thanks again for the ride. You are a lifesaver.” She moved to open the door, but the driver was there first.
“Let me help you get him inside,” Michael offered. They both glanced at Ben, who hadn’t so much as shifted during the entire ride.
She looked back at Michael. “Probably a good idea. I won’t be able to get him up the stairs by myself.” They roused Ben enough for him to put his arms around their shoulders and they moved him to the sidewalk.
Michael spoke quietly to the driver, who nodded before returning to the driver’s seat and slowly driving away. Maggie looked at him questioningly. “I told him to find a place to park. I’ll call him after we get your date settled.”
They managed the stairs, and Michael leaned Ben between himself and the wall as Maggie unlocked the door and let them into her apartment. “Let’s just lay him on the couch,” she said, cocking her head in the direction of a large grey velvet sofa with navy blue accent pillows.
They worked together to get the unconscious and snoring Ben safely onto the couch. Michael studiously ignored the way his jacket gapped open, inviting views of Maggie’s breasts as she leaned over to place a pillow under Ben’s head.
“Thank you so much, Michael,” she said as she removed his jacket and held it uncertainly. “Can I offer you a beer or coffee or something? Or do you need to go?”
“Coffee sounds good,” he answered.
Maggie smiled brightly as she gently placed his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and set about making coffee. Michael wandered around the living room area to the bay window and looked out over the street. He turned back around to take in the view of the room. It was small, of course, but nice in a quirky sort of way. She’d left on a dim lamp near the window that gave enough light to the space without being intrusive. “This is a nice place,” he commented.
She smiled at him from the kitchen counter. “Thanks. And again, I really appreciate your giving us a ride.”
“Mags, you’ve thanked me about a thousand times,” he said gently.
She blushed slightly. “Well, I didn’t want to forget,” she said sheepishly.
He watched her as she worked in the kitchen, measuring out coffee into a French press, putting a kettle of water on the stove, little mundane domestic tasks. His mind skipped to flashes of her from throughout the night. Slowly it dawned on him what it was about Maggie that made him uncomfortable.
She’s real. She has no hidden agenda. She isn’t playing some game; she doesn’t want anything from me. He sighed deeply. She’s the kind of girl who could make you forget your own rules.
Michael slowly crossed the room and stood by the kitchen counter. “Can I help with something?”
“No, it’s all done. We’re just waiting for the water to boil.” She leaned back, resting her hand on the counter.
He gently placed his hand on hers. “You…are very dangerous,” he whispered, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it softly, his deep brown eyes peering into hers. Her brow furrowed, perplexed.
Gently, he tilted up her chin with his fingers and leaned down, meeting her lips with his own, lightly at first and then more urgently. He ran his other hand down the smooth fabric of the back of her dress, coming to rest on her firm ass as he probed her mouth with his tongue, seeking hers.
Maggie responded, matching the heat of his kiss, reaching up, tangling her fingers in the hair behind his ear, and giving herself over to his embrace. Michael’s hand left her ass and smoothed its way back up to her side, her ribs, stopping just under her breast. Reluctantly he pulled himself away.
Maggie breathlessly gazed up at him. He smiled gently. “We’re both a little drunk,” he said. “Which is why I’d better go.” Tenderly, he kissed her once again and walked out the door.